


Why Would I Need You?

by TheAfroCircus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Boyfriends, Dissociation, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Gay Sex, Light BDSM, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, References to Depression, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAfroCircus/pseuds/TheAfroCircus
Summary: Jim Moriarty did not need Sherlock Holmes, no, but Sherlock would run to him every time as if the man did. They didn't need each other, of course not.





	Why Would I Need You?

_ Why Would I Need You? _

.

.

.

.

"Sherlockkk...mmm… _ Oh. That's it, darling. Hmm. Good boy."  _ Jim's fingers tangled and guided the dark curls, urging those lips to take him far. "Good boy… You naughty,  _ naughty _ boooyyyy." He finally sang out in satisfaction, his lilt unbearably high. With a pant, he pulled the man back to look him in the eyes. " _ Gorgeous _ around my dick, swallowing, licking my perineum. You've come  _ such _ a long way from the blushing virgin you were before you came to me."

"I've had many opportunities to learn." said the man, licking the taste off his lips. It was one he'd grown accustomed to and even (possibly) grew fond of. 

"How about another lesson?" Jim had a glint of something devious in his eyes, along with an insatiable hunger. 

Sherlock didn't need to give a response. His answer was in the way he allowed the man to maneuver his body, lay him back on the bed and part his legs. 

"Legs spread eagle, ankles above your head, dearest. You're in for a very special treat." 

The taller man relaxed in the position he was placed in. He was then tied firmly in place to the bed posts. He arched as Jim prepared him, knuckles deep inside while the others wrapped around his cock. Slow pumps and grazing of nails had him groaning, even louder when Jim lapped just beneath his scrotum. The criminal loved to do this, loved to tease him and make him beg. Although, these days Sherlock begged of his own accord because  _ hell  _ Jim was very effective at giving him a spectacular orgasm. 

Sherlock groaned in need. "Jim, please."

"Patienceeeeee." Moriarty hissed directly into the sensitive hair of his sack, causing the detective to give a whole body shudder. 

"Oh." Sherlock's lips parted in the low moan. 

"Daddy knows what his little whore needs to be satisfied." Jim traced up the aching shaft with the tip of his nose, then licked up the bead of pre cum that followed. "But... it's so nice to be reminded.." 

Of course Jim would want him to say it, he always did and Sherlock always wanted Jim to make him say it, and so he said it. 

"I need you, Jim." he said, dutifully. "I belong to you and I need you."

"More." 

"I need you inside of me-"

"Why?" 

"You own me, Jim."

"I do but…" 

He was so very infuriating but Sherlock would say it because he always did. "I'm a whore who-"

"Dirty,  _ dirty… _ " 

"I'm _ your _ whore, Jim, and I  _ need _ you." Sherlock said, finally, and that was it. It was the answer to Jim's big problem.

"Then you better take me like you're staaaarvinggg." Moriarty half laughed and half sang. It was the only warning before the Irishman seated himself inside of his lovely detective. 

Said detective cried out, Jim's length burying itself inside his tight heat. Yet Jim didn't begin to move. Sherlock needed the friction, needed the familiar brutal pace. He needed Jim's hand around his throat, demanding he scream for it and then cutting off his oxygen so he couldn't. 

_ "James."  _ Sherlock breathed out, gasping when Moriarty finally,  _ finally  _ reached and stretched him as far as possible. Still, the detective would beg for more. 

Jim hummed, licking the sweat off his upper lip. "Such a good boy for daddy~" He leaned down to give the man his own taste. 

Sherlock shut his eyes with the kiss.  _ "James, please." _

"Shhh…" The criminal got on his fours, hovering over his writhing sweetheart. "Fuck yourself up on my cock, darling. Show some effort." 

It took a bit of twisting and jerking, moving his hips forward when they were being held back by the ropes digging into his ankles. He panted, moving himself up on the still cock. Their eyes never broke contact, dark brown almost black eyes staring into desperate green-blue swirls. Sherlock kept up a steady rhythm, rolling his hips up, pulling and pushing to impale himself over and over. It was a very tedious task but with each thrust they fit together very snug, warm when Sherlock clenched around Jim's shaft.

Jim made it agonizing, pulling back just when he was about to touch the taller man's prostate.

"Just fuck me, Jim." Sherlock groaned. "Take what you want, what you need."

"Oh, I will, I will, I willll…" 

Sherlock knew his lines, his role. He knew exactly what to say in their exchanges. It was a challenge to keep the consulting criminal sexually satisfied, but a welcome one. Jim was impossibly desensitized to regular stimuli. It took different key phrases, key movements, a certain roughness. Sometimes Jim put hands on him, held him down and mocked him, told him to repeat degrading sentences like he meant them. 

Moriarty needed the distraction, the direct power over someone personally. He was the most powerful man in all of London, controlling the largest criminal network Sherlock has ever seen in his life, in this generation, in this century. Yet after reaching the top of his game and gaining power over everything, it turned out that Jim had power over nothing. The classic conundrum of having it all. In the end, what is it all worth? What do you do with all the money and power in the world when it can't get you the organic object you craved?

The criminal was empty and damaged, delusional. Organic, he couldn't buy, couldn't nourish. He could only destroy it. There was nothing organic that could survive his grasp, except one. One that was just stubborn enough, just as delusional and damaged. One he could destroy over and over and use to his heart's content, one that would keep coming back to him of its own will. 

When the man first came to the detective, asking for help, Sherlock was wary. He wasn't any longer, no matter how hard he tried to force himself to be. James wasn't a danger to him or to London, not while Sherlock shared a bed with the man. The only danger James was, was to himself. Also, not while Sherlock shared a bed with the man. Moriarty asked him for a beneficial relationship, to which Sherlock agreed to enter so long as the attention was solely on their actions and not on strapping explosives to 'dusty bags' as Jim called the old woman he brutally murdered. 

As he gained momentum and motivation, Sherlock began to squeeze himself around Jim's cock. He felt the man shudder above him and grunt. Jim was muttering over and over, talking more for his own pleasure than Sherlock's but the praise caused the taller man to groan in acknowledgement.

"Daddy loves it, oh daddy loves it when you're dirty. Daddy's boy, daddy's little- oh  _ fuck. Gooood boooy~"  _ Jim was beautiful, hair a tousled mess, lips shining and gasping in pleasure. 

Self control was a fickle thing with the consulting criminal. Jim abandoned his earlier plans it seemed, starting to actively thrust. A brutal pace as usual, forcing his cock into Sherlock again and again, placing his entire body weight on him. This definitely wasn't a new lesson. It felt like an exam Sherlock has studied night after night for  _ weeks _ . 

Sherlock made some strained noises in the back of his throat. It was a bit difficult, having his body folded up over itself, pinned down by a man who was fucking him into oblivion. Even with all this contortion and extra stimuli, Jim still seemed to need more, to need something else quite out of reach. 

"Not...enough.." The man moaned as if he were in pain. "I...I  _ need _ …" 

Sherlock understood and gave his permission. "Take it." 

Jim sighed in relief, scrambling to both slow down his impending orgasm and to cut Sherlock loose from his bindings with a knife once used by them for blood play. Now Moriarty was using it to free the detective so he could hold him close and feel his heartbeat against his own. He repositioned the man, throwing the legs around his hips and pulling the detective's hands in place. He murmured against his lips, voicing his gratitude repeatedly. 

"Thank you,  _ thank you _ …" 

Sherlock stopped his babbling by swallowing his lips in a kiss that could pass as passionate if you squinted. It felt more desperate than anything. Desperate for the closeness, for the connection, for just another person to be on top of and the detective gave him that. He gave him what he so craved, the human contact, the illusion of being wanted. Sherlock even pulled him closer, encouraging him to achieve an orgasm. 

Through it all, Jim moaned in response and reacted. He did all that the man beneath him asked for, every request being voiced low into his ear. 

_ Harder _ ,  _ Jim _ . 

_ Faster, Jim.  _

_ Deeper, Jim.  _

_ Jim. Jim. Jim. _

_ "Sherlock."  _ Jim gasped, impossibly close to that fatal plunge. He was going to fall, teeter over on himself, on the detective, over  _ everything.  _ He was such a fucked up  _ mess.  _ "I  _ need  _ to-" 

"Go on, James." The way Sherlock said his given name, full of  _ something _ , everything, and nothing. "I'm here _."  _ Sherlock tried not to hiss as Jim clawed at his sides, pulling at him to get them closer, more attached. Though there was no need, the man was balls deep, their bodies were sliding together and Sherlock was meeting his thrusts. 

Moriarty was vocal. He was moaning, gasping, pleading. The sounds reminded the detective of a wounded animal, begging for its release, and Sherlock was feeling generous enough to take the risk of freeing the beast. 

" _ Come, James. You're so close. We're so close." _

_ "Yess _ **_ssss…_ ** _!"  _ Jim chased his orgasm with gritted teeth and clenched eyes, feeling his way through it, feeling it all. His hips stuttered, snapping suddenly before pulling out. He finished himself off on Sherlock's stomach, opening his eyes to witness the marking. Such a  _ mess.  _

As everything started to fade around the criminal, coming to a standstill, Jim was pulled into an embrace. It helped to manage his trembling and steady his breathing. Either the detective didn't orgasm or the criminal missed it, but he was too spent and satisfied to actually care about an orgasm that wasn't his own. Unable to keep organic things satisfied, to not be selfish and all that. 

_ "You did amazing, James. You were very good."  _ Sherlock praised, tightening his hold around the small of the man's back. 

"Hmmm…." Jim sighed in acknowledgment, nose being tickled by the light dusting of hair on the taller man's chest. His eyes shut just as lips pressed against his temple. 

"Sleep." the detective tucked Moriarty's head under his chin. "I will be here when you awaken." 

Jim turned up his nose in disgust, mumbling. "Don't be here." mumbled the criminal, starting to drift off into a deep slumber.  _ "Why would you be here…?"  _ He murmured and was unconscious before Sherlock even responded. 

"I've no idea." said Sherlock. He made sure the man was out cold before he gave his sigh. Jim didn't need him, of course he didn't, and Sherlock would once again be gone before the morning arrived. He would tell no one of these nights, not even John who grew more suspicious with each one Sherlock spent out of the flat like this.

Jim Moriarty did not need Sherlock Holmes, no, but Sherlock would run to him every time as if the man did. They didn't need each other, of course not. 

It was barely a week before the next text came in, requesting Sherlock's presence. 

_ I need you. JM _

_ No, you don't. SH  _

_ However, I will be there shortly. SH  _

_ Good boy. JM  _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_ Sherlock? Where are you? JW _

_ Sherlock?? JW  _

_ I thought we were playing cluedo tonight. JW  _

_??? JW _

_ Sherlock. JW _


End file.
